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Before we all move on to apples and pumpkin, lets make the most of the last stone fruits-apricots, peaches and plums, the former and the latter so delicious in cakes and tarts, and so often overlooked in favour of the almighty apple pie. This beauty comes from one of my favourite new books of the summer, How to Eat a Peach, by the great British food writer Diana Henry. (The title was inspired by a night in Italy when the author was in her twenties, and a couple at the next table at the outdoor trattoria she was dining at were served a bowl of ripe peaches, which they sliced into glasses of cold moscato; they’d then sip the bubbly wine, now infused with peach, and eat the peach slices, now imbued with the flavour of the wine.)

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Although it hasn’t felt like winter for a long time around here (sorry, Toronto), Meyer lemons can still be found – there’s still time. Those yellow-orange, smooth-skinned lemons that came to be out of the union of a regular lemon and mandarin are milder, smoother, less harsh than a traditional lemon – but if there are none to be found, any old lemon will do. (And will in fact give your curd more pucker, if that’s what you’re after.) There is something nostalgic about a tiny lemon tart, even if you haven’t grown up with them, nor have a grandma who happened to make lemon curd. They feel like they should go with afternoon tea parties and tiny silver spoons, and yet that’s an occasion I rarely take part in, all the men in my life even less so, and yet they tend to be the ones to dive into a plate of lemon tarts as if they haven’t eaten in a week.

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